


Sic the Wolves and Hope It Don't Get Ugly

by libbertyjibbit



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-18 14:31:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17582645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libbertyjibbit/pseuds/libbertyjibbit
Summary: There's something wrong with Cornelius. He can see it, even if no one else is paying attention. And caring for someone doesn't mean forgetting your situation. Billy has never had the luxury of forgetting.Canon-divergent AU where it's Hickey who gets sick first.





	Sic the Wolves and Hope It Don't Get Ugly

He's exhausted. Even with all of the men working, hauling is hard and painful; his legs and back ache, and he's constantly tired. He knows that the others feel the same; there's a weariness in all of their eyes as they set up the tents, and most of the men take their tins inside rather than stay out in the wind. They will choke down cold, congealed food and then they will fall upon their bedrolls and sleep. Billy wants nothing more than to join them, but he can't just yet. His eyes are on Cornelius, who is chatting with Tozer and ignoring his own tin of food. He seems to be doing better than the rest of them - he's energetic almost, talking animatedly, gesturing with his hands. Tozer's eyes are half-glazed but he's doing his best to pay attention, and Billy has to look away to hide a smile. It wasn't so long ago that Tozer had looked at Cornelius with more than a little distaste, but Cornelius has always been good at turning things in his favor.   
  
Eventually they do stop talking, and Tozer heads into one of the tents while Cornelius goes in the other direction. Billy watches the way that he’s walking, eyes narrowed. He hadn't imagined it; Cornelius is moving oddly. Stiffly, like he's in pain. None of the others seem to have noticed, but then they probably wouldn't even think to look. They all ache; they're all moving gingerly. But Billy’s eyes have a bad habit of finding Cornelius whether he wants them to or not, and he knows he hadn't been hauling.   
  
Billy follows him into his tent. He hasn't been invited and doesn't expect to be - whatever they'd once had is over and Cornelius is as likely to share a tent with Goodsir as him - but he’s aware of the need for privacy.   
  
"Want something, Billy?" Cornelius asks with a leer. He sounds far too worn out to pull it off properly, though, all of his apparent energy gone as though it had never existed.   
  
Billy ignores him and steps forward. "What's wrong?" he asks.   
  
Cornelius smiles. "Wrong? Nothing. Why would any-"  
  
"I've seen the way you're walking," he interrupts, too tired to be anything other than blunt, and the smile falls off of Cornelius' face. "I know that something’s wrong."  
  
"It's nothing."  
  
Billy ignores the obvious lie. "I could fetch Goodsir," he offers. He's aware that Cornelius hadn’t been thinking of him using his skills for healing when he’d insisted they bring him, but it doesn't matter. He can do both, will do both, however reluctantly.   
  
Cornelius shakes his head. "No," he says. "I don't need him." His jaw works. "I'm sick," he finally says, and Billy closes his eyes. He'd thought as much, but hearing it makes him feel like he's been slapped.   
  
Clothes rustle, and when Billy opens his eyes it is to see Cornelius has removed his coat and johns and has turned around, baring his bloodied, wounded backside for him to see. "Cornelius," Billy says, voice weak.   
  
"It started this morning. It doesn't hurt, not really, but I could feel them. Opening." Cornelius' voice is brisk, matter of fact. He sounds as if he doesn't care at all, but Billy knows better. He steps forward and wraps his arms around him. Cornelius stiffens and tries to pull away, but Billy holds on until he relaxes with a soft sigh, turning so that he can embrace him in return. "You can't tell anyone," he says. “Not a soul, Billy.”  
  
“I won’t,” Billy says immediately, earning a smile.

Even as he smiles back, however, his mind is working, and quickly. They haven't spoken about it, but he knows why Goodsir was brought along. They're all sick, all dying, and there's no point in wasting fresh meat. He wonders what would happen if he were the one who was ill; if Cornelius would keep his secret for him. No, he decides, he wouldn't. If it were Billy who was too sick to manage, the best he'd be able to hope for is a quick death.   
  
But he is not Cornelius. He can see what must be done, but he knows that he can’t do it himself. He cares too much about him, still, and even if he didn’t he isn’t sure that he could harden himself that much. His mind turns to Tozer. If Cornelius is not capable of leading the men he is the next logical choice. He knows that half of the men with them wouldn’t have come if he hadn’t convinced them to go along. Tozer is loyal, Billy knows. That’s why Cornelius singled him out as his right hand. But there are things that Cornelius hasn’t told him; things he might have guessed but hasn’t been trusted enough to know. It’s tempting to think of Tozer as a big, dumb Marine, good for shooting things but not for thinking – Billy knows that’s how Cornelius views him. But Cornelius’ biggest flaw has always been thinking himself so far above everyone else. He never considers that he can be outmaneuvered. Billy used that against him once, and he can do so again.  He doesn’t really like being quite so underhanded, but he’s not as dim as Cornelius believes him to be, and needs must. Billy thinks that despite his loyalty, Tozer could be convinced to look at this logically, and Billy doubts that he would falter. He's already shot and killed someone because he thought it was necessary. He just needs to be convinced that it's necessary once more.  
  
He can't say any of this, of course; can't let on that he's thinking this way. Cornelius prides himself on being practical, but Billy doubts that his practicality would extend to his own life. Whose would?  
  
Cornelius tilts his face up, clearly angling for a kiss. It calls back a memory of a lifetime ago, before Irving had found them and everything had been ruined. They’d been happy then, Billy thinks, although they hadn’t known it. He meets Cornelius mouth with his own; Cornelius sighs softly and leans into him, opening his mouth and sliding his hands into Billy’s hair so that he can move him where he likes. Billy lets him, closes his eyes and loses himself as best he can. The kiss tastes of blood. He doesn’t know which of them it is coming from, but he supposes it doesn’t matter. They will be together one last night, this night; will ignore blood and illness and exhaustion and pretend that all is well, and in the morning Billy will find a way to get Tozer alone and they will work out what’s to be done with Cornelius. Or perhaps he will not see the morning; perhaps Cornelius has sensed his deception and is only pretending to believe him, and is now ensuring that Billy will spend the night with him so that he can slide a knife nice and easy between his ribs while he sleeps. He knows that should worry him, but as he and Cornelius slip to the floor in a tangle of limbs he finds that it doesn’t. He’s not even sure it matters.

Someone will live. Someone will die. And whoever is left will eat.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. :)


End file.
